


learn trust, let me help (take a leap of faith with me?)

by DelicatePoem



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e02 Lost Girl, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 03, Swen Secret Santa 2018, a tiny bit of angst, worried moms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelicatePoem/pseuds/DelicatePoem
Summary: “Regina!” she calls louder a few times, and barrels through the branches and gigantic leaves in her way, pretending she is not a tiny bit concerned. She is not. Regina is fine, probably needed some peace and quiet (does she hear the cries too?), and Emma is traipsing through the forest, going in circles, fornothing.(or, Emma can't sleep, Regina leaves camp and they realize trusting each other is their best option).Set in Season 3, Lost Girl.





	learn trust, let me help (take a leap of faith with me?)

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays, everyone!! i am terribly late (won't make the 'Sorry I'm late' joke again, as much as i want to), but this is for the **Swen Secret Santa** on Twitter! i really can't work with deadlines, apparently. sorry.
> 
> Clarissa, i'm your secret santa!! thank you for your prompt. hurt/comfort stories are awesome!!! hope you enjoy this one. ♥

Everybody is asleep, gathering their strength for their journey to Pan’s camp tomorrow. Everybody except Emma, who looks at the ongoing fire as if it will give her the answers to all her questions. She throws a berry she collected earlier in her mouth, while asking herself whether getting some sleep in Neverland will be impossible — it does seem to be the case so far, with the crying of the children.

Emma contemplates what happened today (how much time has passed, really, beneath this forever starry night?) and wonders if she’s accomplished anything at all. They have the map, yes, but didn’t Pan get what he wanted, in the end? The sound of the children’s cries mingle with her own voice, admitting, over and over,  _ I just feel like… what I’ve always been. An orphan. _

She hears some rustling and lifts her eyes from the fire, hand ready to get her sword if needed. Is Pan back, so soon? Who does he think he— Wait, that’s… Regina? From the opposite side of the camp, she stands abruptly and stomps off into the deep forest.

Emma drops the wooden bowl with tasteless red berries next to her cot and gets up with a huff, the sword in her grip. Where’s Regina going,  _ alone?  _ Not that she really needs the help, Emma thinks, trying to make as little noise as possible so she doesn’t wake up Mary Margaret, David or, god forbid, Hook. It’s probably nothing. Still… they’ve been warned not to mess with Neverland, and Emma’s sure the warning wasn’t said for the sake of saying it.

She crosses the camp and no one stirred in the process, which is good, because they need their sleep, even if Emma won’t be getting any. She enters the forest through the same path Regina went. “Where are you, Regina…” she mumbles to no one in particular. Leaves crunching beneath her boots are the only sound for a few seconds. Emma waits until she’s out of range of the camp before hissing,  _ “Regina!”  _

It goes unanswered, of course.

“Regina!” she calls louder a few times, and barrels through the branches and gigantic leaves in her way, pretending she is not a tiny bit concerned. She is  _ not.  _ Regina is fine, probably needed some peace and quiet (does she hear the cries too?), and Emma is traipsing through the forest, going in circles, for  _ nothing. _

“Regina!” she shouts again. She can’t have gone very far in those boots—

And Regina has had enough. “I’m right  _ here,  _ Miss Swan. You can stop with all that noise now, you’re giving me a headache.” She’s sitting on  _ dirt _ of all things, her back against the bark of a tree. She was not kidding about the headache, though.

(The way Emma jumped when she finally spotted her makes her feel minimally better.)

Emma sheathes her sword behind her back, now that she’s ascertained there’s no immediate danger. She’s confused, however. Regina isn’t one for… naps? breaks? What was she even doing out here? And— and… the brief thought of Regina’s stupid clothes which don’t fit the jungle at all pops up and she can’t shake it. Bright colors and not a wrinkle on the purple blazer, red blouse (three buttons undone, black camisole peaking out!), tight pants, and… a handkerchief held to her forehead? What?

“What… what are you doing here?” Emma decides to ask, despite the hostility she’s already faced, moving closer to Regina as if she were a dangerous animal.  _ Not too far off. _ “What’s that on your—”

“Why are  _ you _ here?” Regina throws back, still pressing the cloth to her skin, the pain not diminishing in the slightest. She narrows her eyes, her head is killing her and it’s the jungle’s fault. “Aren’t you supposed to be the leader? Well, you just abandoned the ship.”

Maybe if she keeps up with the attitude Emma will get tired of her and  _ leave.  _ She wants to wallow in her own pity and her own stupidity  _ alone.  _ Wants to think about Henry and wonder if he’s okay, wonder if she’ll ever see him again, wonder if their plan is concrete enough this time.

Is that too much to ask?

Apparently so, because Emma rolls her eyes, removes the sheath from her back and lets it fall on the floor with a thud, then gets down on her knees next to her. She blinks a few times, mouth downturned, and then says, her tone accusatory, that Regina hurt herself.

“Yes, so  _ what?” _ comes the gruff reply from Regina, and Emma wants to give up, wishes it was easy to do so, but something about leaving Regina here while she’s clearly hurt leaves a bad taste in her mouth. “Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” Regina continues, “I didn’t do it on purpose, if that’s your next inane question.”

Why is everything a battle with Regina? Why can’t she just  _ say _ what the hell happened and be done with it? No, of course not. Every question Emma asks will receive a snarky retort in return. She bites the bullet, sighing. “What happened? You were fine before.”

Regina dabs her forehead again and hisses. She stares at the handkerchief stained with a small patch of blood and curses her newfound clumsiness. Damnit. “Yes. I was,” she mutters darkly, her expression betraying none of her discomfort — or so she hopes — as she presses the piece of fabric against the cut.

Emma tries to understand how Regina managed  _ that.  _ A cut and a forming bruise on her forehead. Regina doesn’t get hurt. Not… not easily. Emma’s the one that trips over her own feet sometimes. Not her. “That looks… painful, Regina.” The glare she’s given is heavy-lidded and not at all effective; does Regina have a concussion or something? “Can’t you… I don’t know… use magic?”

“Magic works differently here,” Regina explains, dropping her arm holding the fabric, and Emma winces. The area looks swollen, though it could be much worse. “Therefore I can’t heal this— can’t heal  _ myself,  _ without getting exhausted in the process.”

Silence falls between them; awkward silence, because Regina apparently wants to deal with this alone, while Emma  _ knows _ she’s not leaving Regina here by herself. Besides, what would Henry... She exhales shakily, lowering her gaze when she finally focuses on the children crying again, focuses on their mission. Remembers  _ why _ they are here in the first place…  _ Henry. _

Regina has to admit her fall was a nasty one, and she’d laugh if it weren’t so pathetic. She’s sure her knees are skinned. It could have been much worse, but she keeps reminding herself that if she doesn’t find a way to fix this… she’s a liability for Operation Henry.

She watches (blinking a few times, because there seems to be  _ two  _ Emma’s, and her dizziness has returned) as Emma reaches a conclusion of sorts, finally raising her head and meeting Regina’s eyes; her face creased up in sudden determination. “I have magic.”

“And?” Regina furrows her brows, regretting immediately when she shakes her head in confusion; her headache does not thank her in the slightest. 

“I can help. Just tell me how.”

Regina regards her, eyes for once unguarded, a weighted stare Emma can’t figure out but has definitely  _ seen  _ before. What Regina says next, however, is the opposite of what that nameless emotion in her eyes betray. “Miss Swan, healing magic is not a walk in the park or, I don’t know,” Regina says in a quiet tone and rests her aching head against the tree, “slaying a dragon. No. You’d need years of practice under your belt.”

“Got a better idea, your majesty? Because we’ll have a slight setback if you have to rest for more hours than necessary before we can go find Pan’s camp.” Emma rolls her eyes, her patience wearing thin. “Just… I’m just trying to— I can’t take you seriously with that huge bruise on your forehead. Let me help.” (The bruise is not that big. She might be exaggerating. A little bit.)

Regina purses her lips. “Fine. Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Give me your hand,” Regina repeats slowly. Emma complies with the request, holding it out. Regina grasps the hand in hers, refusing to acknowledge the way her skin tingles with the touch. Instead, not sure if she was able to hide her wince, she places Emma’s palm gently over her forehead, her own on top of it.

Emma shifts forward until her knees are touching Regina’s bent legs, her mouth suddenly dry. She tries not to move her fingers on Regina’s silky hair. (Really, how does she maintain its smooth texture and lusciousness? Regina still smells amazing—) “Okay, what now?” she croaks, cutting off her own thoughts before they get out of hand.

“Focus…” Regina clears her throat, staring right into Emma’s eyes with an intensity that calms her and makes her belly flutter at the same time. “Focus on your magic and I’ll do the rest.”

Emma breathes out and closes her eyes, and Regina wonders, not for the first time, why Emma believes in her, believes they can be _stronger together_ with no hesitation. Regina decides to pay it forward, not questioning it. Alternatively, she concentrates on her magic and _Emma’s,_ combined, the feeling of being _safe_ and unharmed once more flowing through her, and _does not question_ the whys and hows.

(And if she keeps staring at Emma’s face all the while, reflecting on Emma’s adorable expression when making magic…

It’s simple: 

1) she’ll blame her concussion;

2) no one will know.)

It’s not the same as using magic alone, not by a long shot. Emma may sound stupid, but it feels…  _ intimate. _ Will she ever get used to it? She opens her eyes when Regina removes her hand from hers, and she hastens to remove her own, because how awkward would it be if she forgot hers on Regina’s head?

“Is it gone?” Regina asks, sweeping her fingers against her forehead and not feeling any pain.

“Yeah,” Emma nods and gives her a small smile. She stands from the ground and brushes the mud from her pants to stall, but she can’t help herself: she offers her hand to Regina, like she can’t control herself from wanting her close. Not true. Definitely not. “Come on, or they might wonder where we went.”

Emma helps her up. Regina blinks and falters back a step, still slightly dizzy, and Emma reaches out and grabs her wrist, steadying her, which causes Regina to grip Emma’s arm (and perhaps feel her biceps in the process). 

“Whoa,” Emma steadies her. Their faces are far too close together as she meets Regina’s gaze, and she promptly looks away, suddenly nervous from the charged atmosphere. She chuckles uneasily. “Can’t have you falling again and hurting yourself… again.”

Regina swallows, stepping back lest she do something idiotic such as kissing Emma Swan senseless. She pushes a strand of hair away from her face. “How did you know—” She interrupts herself once she spots the smirk on Emma’s lips. “You... didn’t know.” Regina says slowly, as it dawns on her, her cheeks warm.

Emma shakes her head, smiling as she gets her sheath from the floor and positions it on her back. “Gotcha. So easy.”

“E-excuse me?” Regina says, following Emma back in the direction of camp. “Miss Swan—”

“Relax. I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Emma looks over at Regina as they fall into step beside one another. “How  _ did  _ you fall anyways?”

_ “That…”  _ Regina starts, holding a leaf away for them to pass. “Is none of your business.”

“Come on, I just saved your life here…”

“You’re being hyperbolic. You did nothing of the sort, you merely…” Regina waves her hand around, in search for words.

“...saved your life, yeah,” Emma completes, raising her eyebrows for effect.

They drop the subject.

.

.

.

They’re almost at the camp when Regina grabs hold of Emma’s arm and pulls her aside, away from the path. It’s… it’s difficult for herself to understand  _ why _ she does it, but between Emma, the ‘hope speech’ couple and the one-handed pirate, Emma is the logical option to confide in. (Regina absolutely  _ hates  _ to admit it: Emma is not as unbearable as she once seemed. Most of the time.)

“You don’t think… he’s become one  _ them,  _ do you?” Regina finally asks.

Emma’s eyebrows furrow. “No. Not,” her voice cracks, “not Henry.”

“I started thinking about it,” Regina blurts, and grips her own upper arms as if it will protect her from the dangers Neverland poses. “About… the Lost Boys. And Henry. The— the crying is...”

_ Oh.  _ “You hear it too?” Emma asks softly.

“Yes, I… Well, the other night I was too tired and slept through it. But tonight…” Regina visibly shudders, and her voice wavers.

“Is… Is that why you left the camp?” Emma asks hesitantly.

“Yes.” Regina looks at Emma for a split second before glancing away, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “Laugh all you want,” she mutters. “I left camp and tripped over a root.” (Weakness had overcome her, and tears in her eyes had their price.)

Emma’s lips curl up, because Regina is… adorable. Really, she is. She can’t be the same woman who was once dubbed the ‘Evil Queen’. Not a chance. Emma doesn’t laugh, however; she can’t imagine a good outcome if she did. “Just… don’t do that again.” Emma says, almost a question, and winces.

Regina gives her a blank expression.

That wasn’t the way Emma intended for the words to leave her mouth.

“I-I mean, if you, um… If you ever wanna talk about…” She swallows, rocking on her heels. “If you ever wanna talk about Henry… I’m all ears.”

Emma shrugs like it’s no big deal.

(It is.)

“Emma,” Regina says, and Regina said her name! she said her name and Emma’s heart threatened to jump out of her chest, until Regina continued and broke it. “If anything like today happens again… Go on. Save him. Forget—” _about me,_ is what Emma reads between the lines, always between the lines. “Forget everything else.”

Emma stares at her, mouth slightly open, as if Regina has insulted her, as if she  _ means _ something— no, must be her head playing tricks on her. “I won’t let it come to that, Regina,” she says, her voice strong and clear. “We’ll find Henry. And Pan will pay.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” Regina asks, eyes jumping over Emma’s features, as if waiting for the moment Emma lies to her.

But Emma only gives her a tentative smile.

“Come on,” she motions with her head to the camp, “you should get some rest before we have to go.”

And that’s the end of the conversation.


End file.
